


The Lady of the Plague

by Gilli_ann



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, Dark Past, F/M, Love and Loss, Pandemics, Plague
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-29 12:05:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19019575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gilli_ann/pseuds/Gilli_ann
Summary: Merlin meets the tragic Freya during the Great Plague of Camelot, and unexpectedly falls in love. But Freya hides a secret that all too soon will doom their romance.





	The Lady of the Plague

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The characters belong to the BBC and Shine TV. I intend no copyright infringement and make no profit.
> 
> This fic was written to fill the Camelot Drabble community's Historic AU prompt. The fic is based on available information about the Great Plague of London in 1665, and also loosely based on the Merlin episode 'The Lady of the Lake'.
> 
> Thank you to my ever-efficient beta, Gwyllion.

  
Merlin hurried down the narrow street. His shoulders hunched against the heat and the stench. He was wrapped in a cloak despite the stifling weather, and his face was covered by a doctor's beaked hood, much like the face of a bird of prey. 

The few people that he met scuttled away at his approach. Likely they considered him a harbinger of doom.

From the next street over he heard the rumbling of an over-loaded cart, and the repeated cry of, 'Bring out your dead!'

Merlin was exhausted. The plague struck indiscriminately. His healing magic let him save only a few of the afflicted. Many more fell ill and died. Deciding who to treat and save caused him constant heartache and worry. He could only do so much each day before his powers were depleted, and he had to be careful. The use of magic was already prohibited, but the plague had sent suspicions about dark sorcery soaring. If his magic was revealed, he would surely be accused of having brought the great death upon Camelot, and he risked being torn to shreds by a frenzied mob. 

The plague had ravaged the city for months on end. Every day Merlin wished he could discover the cause of the pestilence, so that he might fight it with his magic. But the source of the scourge remained a mystery.

The sound of soft, broken sobbing reached him from a building as he passed it by. People were constantly weeping and wailing all over Camelot, but this distraught audible proof of hopelessness and despair nevertheless tugged at his heartstrings. He stopped, raising his hood for a better look.

There was a bright red cross on the dilapidated house's door, with the words, 'The goddess have mercy upon us' scrawled upon it. This was a plague-house, a dwelling where people had recently died. Clearly someone living there had been boarded up inside in accordance with the strict quarantine rules.

In front of the door, one of the king's men stood guard, looking sweaty and sullen.

"Good soldier," Merlin said, moving closer. "How long has this house been boarded up? How many have died here?"

The guard recognized Merlin's attire. "It's been more than two weeks, doctor. All of them dead, except one woman."

"She has survived on her own all this time?" Merlin was astounded. Fear would keep people far away from plague-houses, and the remaining residents were not allowed outside. If the plague spared them, thirst and hunger would not.

The soldier shrugged. "Guess it won't be long now."

Merlin frequently saw such callous indifference to suffering. People had been numbed to others' misfortune by the fear of dying and the corpses piling up.

He quickly made up his mind. "A good day to you, then, and may you remain hale and whole," he said, and turned away. Once he sensed the guard relaxing and paying the plague doctor no more mind, Merlin adroitly wove a glamour of invisibility around himself. 

Another simple spell unlocked the door. In no time, Merlin was inside the forbidden house.

A young woman sat slumped by the empty table, her posture radiating despair, and her pale face streaked with tears. She was little more than skin and bones, dressed in a raggedy dress that had once been red.

She looked up at him and gasped, terror flitting across her features. "Who are you? What do you want?" 

"Don't be alarmed," Merlin said soothingly. Looking into her liquid eyes, he felt his heart skip a beat. He sensed an immediate and strong connection that he couldn't explain. "I've come to help you."

She lowered her head, dejected. "No-one can help me. I'm doomed."

"Have you got the plague?"

She shook her head. 

"How have you managed to stay alive? What do you eat and drink?"

Once more the woman shook her head, her loose dark curls sweeping her bare shoulders. She shivered. 

"No-one can help me," she repeated. "I am cursed."

"No, you're not!" Merlin was more surprised at his own vehemence than at her harsh words. Many of his patients thought the plague were the gods' punishment for their past sins or misdeeds.

She drew a shaking breath, dashing a hand across her wet cheeks, smiling at him with trembling lips. "You're kind, doctor."

"Merlin. Please call me Merlin." He walked over and reached out to take her cold hands in his, his voice gentle. "Is this your family's home? The guard told me that they died."

"No," she whispered, broken. "I'm not from here. These kind people took me in when I had nowhere to go, and I repaid them with death and destruction!"

"Hush, hush," Merlin said. "Don't blame yourself. Don't say such things."

She bent her head and didn't respond.

"What is your name?" Merlin asked.

"I'm Freya."

Merlin squeezed her fingers gently. "Freya, let's leave. I can get you out of here. We'll leave Camelot and go to the country, where there are fields and lakes and laughter. You need food and fresh air."

He was utterly amazed to hear his own words, but he meant them. He had fallen for her in the blink of an eye. And as uncertain as life was, with fate so fickle, why not? Living in the moment and grasping at every chance of happiness was the only way, when each new hour could be your last. 

Merlin was tired of the horror, the stench, the tears, and death. He craved hope and affection, tranquility, love; —nourishment for the heart.

Freya looked at him, amazed. Her eyes filled with tentative joy. "I'm not allowed to leave. The guard surely let you in only because you're a healer."

"He didn't let me in. I got past him unseen."

She frowned, taken aback. 

Merlin made his decision, daring to trust her. "Like this," he explained, his gaze not leaving hers as his eyes turned golden and the spell made him near-invisible for a moment. 

"Oh!" Freya whispered, overwhelmed. "Oh, Merlin. You're— you're like me!"

"What?"

"I have magic too." She stepped back, as if she needed space to clear her mind. 

Merlin was speechless.

"That's why—" She drew a deep breath, hesitating. "Well, it's a long story. But I had to leave home. I thought I'd left my curse behind. But it followed me. When everyone here died, I felt hopeless. What good was my magic to me then, except for bringing me water from the lake back home?"

Closing her eyes, Freya whispered a spell into the air. Clear water immediately flowed into her cupped hands. She raised them to her lips, taking a sip, then let the rest splash onto the floor. She sighed. "I haven't had any reason to leave. Where would I go? I was so afraid that anyone would discover who I truly am, because.... I don't want to die."

Merlin could hardly believe it. His emotions were in turmoil and his heart danced. To find a magical soulmate in this place, in this way! He pulled Freya close, embracing her, sensing her small frame trembling. 

"It is frightening to be different, to have powers," he murmured. "And people do not understand, so they believe the worst. But don't call it a curse! When used right, it's a gift. We're together now, we'll be stronger together. You will not die."

Freya looked up into his face. She smiled shyly. "You're not afraid of me?"

"I think— I think I'm in love with you," Merlin blurted.

She actually laughed, delighted. "You've only just met me, Merlin. But you make me so happy. You give me hope. Thank you." Standing on tip-toe, she leaned in, her lips brushing his in a gentle kiss.

Once more, Merlin's heart skipped a beat, this time from pure joy.

They didn't hesitate. Both wanted to leave. Freya wordlessly accepted Merlin's cloak and wrapped herself tightly. They had no difficulties distracting the weary guard and getting out of the house. 

Hand in hand, they hurried through the dirty, stinking streets. How wonderful it would be to leave all the misery behind!

The City gates were barred and heavily guarded. The king had taken every precaution to contain the plague. 

Merlin stopped, suddenly uncertain. Would his spell be strong enough to get the both of them past so many watchful eyes? He had never used it to hide anyone but himself before.

"Don't worry," Freya whispered, glancing at him. "If you open the gates, I'll handle the men-at-arms. We can't let them stop us now." 

"That requires a lot of power," Merlin said, surprised.

"I know. I think I have what it takes."

Pulling him along, she went right up to the guards, who remained curiously immobile as Merlin walked on, concentrating on the spell to open the gates. When the heavy doors swung open, he looked back. Five guards were on the ground, writhing, dying. Freya stood near the sixth and final man, breathing a strange crimson-tinted mist at him. Her eyes glowed as sickly red as the miasma she emanated. The guard crumpled to the ground with a groan.

Merlin went cold with sudden dread. He had seen too many plague victims not to recognize the symptoms. 

Freya turned to him, the crimson sheen draining from her eyes. At the look on Merlin's face, her budding smile died and her frail shoulders drooped. 

"I told you I was cursed," she said, her voice sorrowful. "I did at least try to tell you the truth."

"It's you? You are the cause of the plague?" Denial coursed through Merlin's mind. His heart had suddenly gone numb. He didn't want to believe it, even when the evidence was right in front of his eyes. 

Freya exhaled and nodded. "Yes, I am. A vengeful witch cursed me to bring the plague wherever I may go. My family died. Everyone in my village died. Not even you and your love can free me from this terrible fate or lift the curse."

She reached out to him beseechingly, but he stepped back instinctively. Her hand dropped.

"I won't harm you, Merlin. You made me feel cherished. For a moment I was just an ordinary girl, happy and safe in the arms of her beloved. That's all I ever wanted from life, and now I know how it feels. You've given me strength to— to go." Freya's eyes glistened. "You won't see me again. Goodbye, my dearest love. May the goddess keep and protect you, always." 

She turned away and hurried through the gate before Merlin could react. 

After a moment he ran after her, tears blurring his vision. "Wait!" he called. "Freya, wait! Don't go! Perhaps there is a way...."

But she had disappeared, as quickly and completely as when brisk winds from the sea carry away the foul stench of pestilence. It was as if Freya herself had dissolved into the air.

Merlin never saw her again, though he would never forget her.

And the Great Plague of Camelot was at an end.


End file.
